I smoke 15 cigarettes a day even though I quit 3 years ago.

She looks like an ass. Just sayin'.

I feel like my depression just irritates everyone. Like no one understands how much pain I’m in. My world is about 2400 sqft.

Apparently I smoke 15 cigarettes a day even though I basically quit 3 years ago.

I want to die. No one can relate to me. I don’t think anyone fully understands the prison I’m in. And I don’t know how to communicate it to them.

I think if you asked any of my loved ones how bad my situation is on a scale of 1-10, they’d probably say a higher number but they’d be thinking 4 or 5.

It’s a 9. A 10 to me would mean complete hopelessness and loneliness. A 9 scales that back just a smidge.

I thought with COVID that more people would come to understand my pain. But they still seem completely oblivious. Everyone is so focused on how quarantine is affecting them and how it’s the worst thing any human being should have to suffer through blah, blah, blah. But not one person has said anything about how they now understand what it’s like for homebound people. Not one. They don’t seem to know we exist.

I can’t cry 24/7 which is what would be happening if I let go of all my coping mechanisms. I’m ALWAYS trying to keep it together. So much so that I can crack at what others see as the smallest things. I just can’t take it anymore. It’s too much.

And now my hair is thinning for some reason. Why? I don’t know. Stress? Hashimoto’s? Age? All of the above?

What’s the point? Seriously? I have no future but 2400 square feet. At least it’s a big cell. But once everyone else is gone, I’ll be all alone for the rest of my life.

I sometimes feel like I’m being forced to come to terms with a terminal illness. But in a really slow, drawn out, “gaslight-ee” kind of way.

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